


The Hunt

by MoreThanAGame



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1621733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoreThanAGame/pseuds/MoreThanAGame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss is abducted and wakes up in a cruel game where she is hunted by rich men who believe they are above the law.  Peeta is a hunter, Katniss, his prey.  Katniss may be a young girl afraid and alone but she will never go down without a fight.  <br/>Porn!  Non-Con.  Everlark.  Horror.  Romance.  Thriller.  AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing first person pov and also my first attempt at Horror/Thriller. I'm a huge fan of heroine horror. The idea hit me and I wanted to read it so bad I thought I would try writing it.

My hands grip into the wet earth, scrambling to make sense in the dark. My head is still spinning and it's impossible to focus even on my body. After a few minutes, when my eyes begin to focus I feel relief, until the headache splits through me like a jack hammer to my skull. I am laying on my back, looking up at a dense canopy of leaves and a sky full of more stars than I've ever seen peeking through. It would be beautiful if I wasn't so damn terrified. When I lift my hand to my right temple, it is tender and swollen to the touch. Looking down at my body, at the sight of my clothes, now smeared in thick mud, my last memories come flooding back.

I had been bar-tending in the seedy backwoods bar of my hometown. It was a usual night, nothing out of the ordinary. Though, ordinary usually meant a room full of old drunks and spurning unwanted advances with just enough finesse to still get a good tip. Which for me means scowling instead of slamming his head on the counter. I learned quickly, if their nose is bleeding, I go home hungry. It's not just me I have to worry about either, I have Prim to take care of. So I fight the urge to knock them out, but I don't have to smile. It's my own little rebellion. After closing for the night I went out to my old pick up, I opened the driver's side door and then my head was slammed into the door-jam and everything went dark.

My clothes are the same one's I'd been wearing to work, a black tank and hunter green cargo pants. My mouth is so dry it feels like I swallowed cotton balls so I suspect that I'd been drugged. On my left wrist is a plastic band with a blinking red light. I try to pull it off. When that doesn't work, I try ripping it with my teeth but all I do is aggravate the flesh of my wrist. "AAGGHH!" Combining the frustration of not being able to remove a bracelet and the fear of not knowing where I am collide into me releasing a sound I've never made before. I calm myself down, taking deep breaths. It's time to think.

I'm not locked up and I haven't been raped. I think I'm alone though it's hard to tell since I can't see much more than a few yards ahead of me. My only injury appears to be the bruise on my head and the after effects of whatever drug was pumped into me. My wrists have a sticky residue on them like I'd been duct taped at one time. These woods aren't mine, they are thicker and damper. I lean forward, standing up slowly so I don't get a head rush. I stand with my back leaning against a tree, listening intently to the sounds of the forest. Each rustle of leaves sets me on edge. I almost jump out of my skin when I hear the loud crackle of a radio coming to life a few feet away hidden in a bush.

The voice of an extremely peppy woman bombards my senses. "Welcome, Welcome! You have been selected as a tribute in our illustrious annual hunt! What an honor. Tonight the patriarchs of society will prove their prowess and you are the trophy. Now, don't lose heart because if you manage to stay alive for 48 hours, these strapping lads will have to pay you more money than you've ever dreamed of. The only rule is you must stay inside of the predetermined area, it is marked with red paint. Attempt to go outside of the perimeter and you will be met with a nasty shock that will quite possibly be your death. Happy hunting, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

I don't want to believe it. This can't really be happening. I don't have time to process it though because the annoying voice comes back this time a little more menacing. "A word of advice, my dear, you may want to start running." So I grab the radio and run.


	2. Chapter 2

Peeta (12 hours earlier)

My hands grip the cold leather of the limo seat as I repress the urge to strangle the woman sitting with me, my mother. Her cold eyes peer into me like I'm the biggest disappointment she ever had, most likely I am. She's giving me the same speech that I've heard a dozen times already as if hearing it again will magically make me want to do this. It's not like I have a choice anyway.

"You will show Mr. Snow the respect and manners that I have instilled in you. No slouching, no talking back. You will be representing ME, our family, and most of all, Mellark Inc. This is an honor that every man in my family has achieved and it will not end with you. If you bring shame upon me you will wish you had never been born. I brought you into this world, by God, I can take you out of it boy."

"What will I be hunting, Mrs. Mellark?" I've asked the question before and the answer is always the same.

She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. "Something exotic. The men are very secretive about the details. Don't screw this up. Kill what they tell you to kill, and keep your mouth shut!" Her finger is in my face and she looks especially worked up, tense and fuming. I pour myself a scotch.

The limo approaches our private jet and though I want almost anything more than getting on it, the only thing I want less is being near Mrs. Mellark. I've managed to avoid her since I turned 18, keeping myself busy in college and taking as many trips as I can but once I turned 21 she insisted on this "rite of passage".

Once we are out of the limo her demeanor changes, as it always does, the moment there is any chance of prying eyes. She straightens my collar and tie, it makes me cringe. Her voice is the practiced and smooth voice of what she imagines a mother should sound like. "Make me proud," she says. We both know that's never going to happen. I gave up believing I could make her proud when I was 15. Now, I just try to make her tolerate me. "Look who came to see you off, how lovely."

Clove is standing near the entrance to the plane, no doubt another of Mrs. Mellark's tactics. She has been pushing Clove on to me almost more than this trip. She's a pretty girl outwardly but inwardly she's my mother. She has the same cold, calculating, and cruel presence hidden behind pleasantries and manners. "Hello, Peeta." As I approach she offers me her hand with the expectation for me to kiss it. I do so quickly but with barely concealed distaste. She ignores it.

"I came to wish you well on your trip. When you return Papa has invited you to visit our estate in the Hamptons." It isn't really a request. None of these people take no for an answer.

"We'll discuss it when I return." I respond evasively but the reply is enough to satisfy her for now. "Good bye, Clove."

She wraps her arms around my neck and moves in for a kiss but I turn my face enough so it lands on my cheek. To save her some embarrassment I quickly kiss her cheek in return. "I have to go now." I move quickly up the stairs and into my seat. Looking out the window I see the two women walking away together. No doubt deciding my fate.

* * *

Mr. Snow is a repugnant and haughty man. He has eyes like a snake about to strike even when he smiles, it makes me extremely uneasy. I am in an office with him and another man my age, his name is Cato. He seems pleased with where he is and eager to start. I am at a loss for words and if I knew where I was I would be looking for an exit but I was blindfolded after my plane landed as part of the "initiation". I'm under the impression Snow would not let me leave. He just finished explaining that in an "arena", that's the word he used to describe where this massacre will take place, there are two women who we are going to hunt and kill. That if I haven't killed someone in the next 48 hours my family has to pay him 10 million dollars, they will lose their funding from his company and I will be executed. If I do what he says, I live and he will reinvest in my family's company. The bile comes up unexpectedly and a moment later I'm hung over the demon's trash can staring at my lunch.

He looks at me with such distaste that I think he might just kill me right here. "Mr. Mellark, what a disappointment. I had such high hopes for you, your brothers did so well." Cato is laughing at me and Snow joins him. "I don't think you're cut out for the business world, too soft. Cato on the other hand shows promise. It's time we begin. You will be taken to the arena and then you will choose your weapons. The clock will start as soon as you cross into the arena and the countdown is displayed on the special wristbands you are wearing. Once you are in the arena the bands are activated and you can not leave without a deadly electric shock. Happy hunting and may the odds be ever in your favor." We are dismissed and blind folded again.

As I am transported in a vehicle I try to process what just happened to me. I am being forced to kill an innocent person or die myself in the next 48 hours. Which means in 48 hours I will be dead. The only thing I can do to give my death more meaning is try to prevent Cato from killing those women. I'm going to have to act like his friend. It might even mean having to hurt him, or even kill him in the end. It's a thought I've never considered, could I actually kill someone?


	3. Chapter 3

Katniss

I've stopped running, not because I'm tired, but because I'm not stupid. The adrenaline from running coupled with sheer panic were threatening to take over. So I stopped running to try to catch my wits but it didn't help, I'm still being hunted in the woods. I still don't have any weapons. I also don't know where to run, they could be in any direction, I could be running right into them.

My face turns to a steely expression as I find my resolve. I'm glad my clothes are hunting clothes. That's what I am, that's how I have to think, like a hunter. It's kill or be killed, and I'm not anyone's prey. I look up inspecting the trees around me and I finally come across one that I can climb. My fingers cling into the bark as I pull my weight up the trunk. I get dizzy and have to rest on a branch before climbing higher. By the time I'm 30 feet in the air my chest is heaving, my tank is damp with sweat and sticking to my skin. I wrap my legs around the branch and rub the sore muscles of my arms.

I think about Prim. She's wondering where I am. She may have even reported me missing already. It's disorienting to not know how long I've been gone. A pathetic sob escapes me as wonder what will happen to her if I die here. I bite my lip and wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. The radio is digging into my back so I take it out and look at it. There aren't many knobs just one channel and a power button. I turn it off not wanting it to make noise and give away my position.

I doze a little in the night and keep waking up in a rush that almost shocks me out of the tree. It's impossible to get comfortable. When I'm shifting positions for the hundredth time I see her. I lay low, flat on my belly, peeking to the side to get a look. She looks to be my age, maybe a little older, she has short dark hair and is wearing a red dress. What rotten luck. There's no doubt she's been captured like me. I consider the situation. Do I stay hidden and leave her to fend for herself? Or should I join forces with her? When I think about how I would never be able to forgive myself if she was killed and I did nothing, I open my mouth before she wanders out of range. "PSST, hey, up here."

Her body freezes obviously scared. She wheels around and then I see the stick shes holding ready to pummel any attacker, as if it would be a fair fight. At least she has spunk, I think rather grimly. "Up here, in the tree, I'm not one of them." I say a little louder. She looks up, I can't see her face in the shadows, so odds are she can't see me. "I'm coming down."

The trip down is a struggle in the dark, it's slow going. By the time I'm on the ground and face to face with the mystery girl she looks impatient. I stick out my hand as an offering of friendship and greeting but she just leaves me standing there awkwardly so I put it down. She's looking at me like I have two heads. I'm really not a social creature, now that I'm here, I don't know what to say. I decide on asking, "Do you need help?"

She huffs dramatically, "Do I need help? Do I need help!? Well yes, Einstein, I could use a little help. But unless you have a helicopter or some other way to get me the hell out of here, I don't see how YOU can help me." Her eyes are wild, she twirls her finger in the air on the word helicopter. Her dress is torn up the skirt and down her right arm.

I back up a little. "Well that dress is like a neon sign screaming 'Help! Come and kill me.'" I say wryly.

She looks down at herself. "Right." It seems like a struggle for her to admit that, because she says it through gritted teeth. The next minute her dress is on the ground and she's standing there in just a black thong, not even a bra, she hadn't been wearing one. I turn to the side, averting my eyes.

"Oh my, maybe we can just cover it with mud or something."

"Nope, too risky. The red would show through and then I'd be fucked. No, I'm going commando."

"Isn't commando supposed to be without underwear not only in underwear?"

"Not the way I do it. Besides, it might be a distraction if we're seen. Like, 'Oh God, Boobies' and then we get away or kick 'em in the nuts."

I shake my head and can't help but smile a little. "You're crazy."

"You're not the first to say so. I'm Johanna."

"Katniss."

"Well, Katniss, on a scale of 1-10 how fucked do you think we are?"

"Honestly, unless I can get my hands on a bow, or we manage to hide for 2 days, and that's even assuming they would let us go..." I drift off. The fear is gripping me again. I forgot it for a minute, standing around bantering with this girl.

"Yeah, royally fucked, that's what I thought. I'm not afraid of death. Life's a bitch and then you die." She talks tough but I can sense the fear in her voice, it trembled just a little. She crosses her arms over her chest and I feel like I can actually look at her again. Nudity has always made me a little uneasy. I'd better get over it soon though.

"Can you climb?" I ask hopefully.

"Up there?" She points to the tree I came out of. When I nod she shakes her head adamantly. "No way." My hope deflates.

"Did you have a plan while you were wandering around? Did you notice anything useful?"

She looks a little embarrassed when she answers. "No. I was just trying to keep moving." The girl might be a tad dim.

"So, what do we do?" She asks me in a tone that implies she might not really want my advice but will listen grudgingly.

I look at her from head to toe. Her pixie cut hair has leaves in it making her look like a really pissed off nature spirit. Her mascara is smeared and her lips are chapped. She's thin but strong enough. She's practically naked and in strappy sandals that have heels. I sigh, what did I do to deserve this?

"I hate to break it to you but if we want to live through this there's only one thing we can do. We hunt them, we steal their weapons, and then... we kill them."

"I like the sound of that. You know what, Katniss, you and me, we'll get along just fine." She swings her arm over my shoulder so her breasts are pressed up against my arm. I suspect she did it because she knew I would hate it.


	4. Chapter 4

Peeta

As I look in the trunk of the Hummer at the weapons laid out in front of me I think about what I could have done differently. A cyclone of what ifs sweep me up in their mirage of happy endings. What if I had changed my name years ago and just disappeared to an island somewhere. I could be drinking a beer now, laying on white sands and watching women get a tan. What if I had investigated this hunting trip more thoroughly and alerted the FBI, which led to a sting operation where I helped take down Snow. Then, they put me in witness protection and I never had to see these people again. I could melt into the background and spend my days painting and experimenting with new baking recipes, find a nice girl and get married with a house full of kids.

As I lift up a metal spear and tuck knives into the weapons belt, I think, I haven't painted enough. I always thought there was time. There are scenes I wanted to get on canvas that I haven't gotten to and now, they'll never be seen. I'm depressing myself.

An even more depressing thought comes when I grab the canteen of water, no one's going to miss me, not really. The only person I can think of that might be remotely put out by my death, is Finnick. He'll probably throw back a dozen drinks to me on his yacht, have a drunken one night stand, and then, he'll move on. This makes me furious, what have I been doing with my life?! That isn't me, no one even knows who I really am. I learned to hide who I am at such a young age that I never made connections based on anything real. I wish I had at least one true friend, someone in this world to remember the real me.

I look down at the remaining weapons that neither of us has taken, a sword, some throwing stars, a blow dart, a syringe, ropes and a bow and arrows. None of the weapons are guns or anything automatic. It seems they want us to use skill or they want to drag this out for as long as possible. Cato grabs them all except the bow and arrows. I consider it, I'm not very good at archery, but some deep ancient voice within me tells me to take it, like i would regret it if I didn't. When the quiver is on my back it feels right, like I'm on track. I'm not going to question anything that makes me feel a little less lost.

The driver closes the hatch and he has the gall to give me a pitying look. I think he might be the man Snow called Abernathy. He reeks of alcohol. "It ain't over till the fat lady sings." he says cryptically. Before I can reply I'm watching the tail lights disappear into the night.

It's time I buddy up to this maniac. I'm thankful for that theatre class I took in grade school. That class might save a life, I chuckle at the thought. If by some miracle I make it out of here alive, Mr. Flickerman is getting a bottle of Glenlivit 1958.

"The pressure's what made me sick, you know how it is. Responsibility to the family on your shoulders. You probably never screw up though." Yeah, play to his ego Peeta.

He gives me a scrutinizing gaze. "You're right." His chest even puffs up a little, what a dick.

"What do you say I tag along for a bit. You mind giving me some pointers?"

"What's in it for me?"

I take a minute to come up with something he'd never refuse. "Besides back up, if I make the kill and get out of here I'll give you my custom Ferrari 458." I don't actually have one but I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. I make sure to put the sorrow in my voice, as if I'd be giving him the only thing important to me. "I'm also a pretty good tracker." This isn't necessarily a lie, I can follow a trail fine but I always scare the game away.

"For now you can stick around." The greed is written all over his face.

We walk for a bit but Cato decides to wait til light and we make camp quickly. "Camp" is just laying on a pile of leaves with my hunting jacket over my head. I'm glad we're resting because I am exhausted. Sleep comes shockingly fast.

Katniss

I never thought someone could be afraid of a sunrise. They always seemed to be a sign of hope and new beginnings to my naive mind. As I watch the golden light begin to illuminate the tops of the trees and slowly make its way down until it finally lands on the skin of my arm I react as if it's burned me. Will I see the sun rise tomorrow, I don't know and now I don't care because this sunrise feels like death.


End file.
